


Of Puges and Pugiliths and Growing Up

by yoshizora



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles X
Genre: Gen, there's a bit of Irina/Elma if you don't blink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 05:16:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15678774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshizora/pseuds/yoshizora
Summary: A moment of honesty between Lin and Irina.





	Of Puges and Pugiliths and Growing Up

**Author's Note:**

> takes place after chapter 8 
> 
> i really like Irina, and i really like Lin, so i just wanted to have them talk to each other. Irina's a cool aunt. or a cool big sis.

They’d captured some Puges. Stole them, more accurately. Certainly not borrowed. They caught ‘em and now the Outfitters are reverse engineering the hell out of their scuffed up carcasses to poke around and see what makes ‘em tick, to see if they can be useful.

Lin’s personally more interested in the Pugiliths, but Puges are just easier to haul in.

“We’re seeing if we can integrate Ganglion tech into our own,” she says over a plate of chicken and sausage caussolet. The meat is artificial, but everyone’s wolfing down their portions so it doesn’t really matter. “Our weapons are pretty well-matched with theirs in firepower, but even ground isn’t what we’re looking for.”

“Making any progress?” Doug asks.

“Yup! Sakuraba’s already testing out new guns.”

“Hmmm.” Doug contemplates this, chewing. He waves his fork, and a bit of sauce splatters on Gwin beside him. “How about mim upgrades? You know, like… _The Terminator._ Oh. Sorry, Lin. That movie’s way before your time.”

“I know what the Terminator is!” she laughs. “And it’s way before _your_ time, too.”

“Built-in lasers would be cool,” Gwin mutters. Tatsu is trying to get at his plate, and Gwin’s having a hell of a time trying to keep him at bay with one foot while he eats his dinner.

At the kitchen island, Elma’s back is turned. She’d finished eating already; she’s always the first to be done, even though she eats no faster than anyone else. Somehow. It’s just one of those Elma things that Lin stopped thinking about. A bottle of wine is in her hands, unopened, but she’s not actually reading the label or contemplating opening it.

“Lin,” she says, back still turned. “Why don’t you take some leftovers to Irina when you’re done with your food? She’s still in the test hangar with the Outfitters.”

“Oh, sure.”

Something about the way Elma says it makes Lin pause and almost ask. But Gwin had lowered his guard for a second and now Tatsu is grabbing at his food, and the look on his face says enough.

Doug is still talking about the Terminator, just to keep the flow of conversation uninterrupted. They all appreciate it.

 

* * *

 

When the self-destruction mechanism in the Puges are disabled, all they can do is sort of spasm and flop onto the floor like dying fish. It isn’t terribly graceful to look at, but it’s better than having them blow up in unsuspecting faces.

Some of the Puges would be useful. The Outfitters want to repurpose the ones that are still in good condition, use ‘em as security droids for NLA or even override their settings to seize control. Figure out how to manufacture their own. Make an army of robot soldiers, for BLADE, because no one is expendable and they can’t afford to keep losing good soldiers on a weekly basis.

Lin still thinks the Pugiliths would be better. Other Outfitters agree, but, Puges are just the easiest to work with right now and manufacturing Pugiliths would use far more resources.

Irina had volunteered herself as a test subject. The Puges won’t self-destruct but they will fight back, and supposedly their combat AI had been given a shiny buff by the Outfitters to serve BLADE better than they had the Ganglion. They’ll be smarter, stronger, faster, all around deadlier, but on their side. The concept sounds better on paper.

In the test hangar, Irina stands there, sweating and breathing hard, three Puges flopping on the floor around her. The knife in her hand is dripping with oil.

“Even three aren’t good enough,” one of the engineers mumbles, and others mumble back. They jot down notes.

Lin awkwardly waits there with the paper bag of leftovers in hand.

“Alright! You can take a break, Akulov. It’s back to the drawing board for those guys.” A hand is waved rather dismissively at the flopping Puges.

Lin holds up the bag in greeting as Irina walks back over.

“Chicken and sausage cassoulet!” she says before Irina can ask.

 

* * *

 

Lin thinks back to the way Elma had looked at that bottle of wine and the painful wince in Gwin’s features as she drives them out of the Industrial District. Irina is already digging into the food, and normally Lin would ask her not to eat in her car ( _especially_ with the roof down, please) but tonight she makes an exception.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Lin,” she says through a mouthful. “This stuff is great.”

“Thanks!”

“I mean it. I could eat another three plates.”

“Well, I do have more in the pot back in the barracks.”

“Really? Awesome.”

“That is, assuming Tatsu and Gwin haven’t already gotten to it.”

Irina’s chewing pauses for a second. Then she swallows, and sighs, and continues eating.

Lin wonders why Elma didn’t send Gwin instead. Maybe, though… there are just some things that even Irina’s best friend isn’t capable of handling. The past few days have been particularly rough on everyone, after the attack on the city.

She sometimes has trouble sleeping. Maybe Irina does, also.

They’re approaching the diner. Lin doesn’t think twice when she pulls into the parking lot and finds a quiet spot away from the usual group of drunks that hangs around the front.

“… Yeah, I’d be down for a burger, too.” Irina shrugs.

“It’s not that,” Lin shakes her head. “I just thought we could hang out here a while. Before we go back to the barracks. I mean, it’s nice to get a break from Tatsu once in a while.”

“I get it,” Irina dryly chuckles. She’s almost done with the cassoulet, pushing pieces around with her fork. “That’s how I feel about Gwin, sometimes.”

She thinks of the time when Irina had almost started a fight with those two guys on the street. When she had had her outburst in Oblivia, furious tears in her eyes and grief trembling in her voice. When she threw herself at a Grex during a basic assignment before Elma could tell her to wait. When she crouched on the grass in the park trying to coax a bristling dog over, and was utterly heartbroken when it wouldn’t come near her.

When she fought those Puges in the test hangar as if it was a real fight, and not a simple weapons test, so vicious and frantic like her life depended on it.

Lin thinks while Irina eats, and drums her fingers against the steering wheel.

“Hey, Irina.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“What did you wanna be when you were growing up?”

Irina’s done with the food, so she slides the container back in the paper bag and crumples it up between her hands. “What’s with that all of the sudden?”

“Oh, nothing, I just wondering.”

“When I was your age…” Irina leans back in the seat, fumbling for the recline button at the side. “I wanted to be a hunter.”

Lin tries to hold back a snort. “A _hunter_.”

“You think it’s funny?” But Irina’s kind of smirking too, looking at Lin from the corner of her eyes. “I’m serious. I thought there’d be nothing better than living out in the woods with no one around, living off of whatever nature could offer. That would’ve been the life.”

“Yeah… I guess I can see you doing something like that. Chopping wood and stuff, too.”

Irina nods. “No one but me and…” Then her smile fades. “My brother. Just the two of us.”

A soft gasp of _oh_ slips past her lips before Lin can stop it. “I’m… I’m sorry, Irina. I didn’t mean to dredge that up.”

“Don’t worry about it.” But her smile is a little sad now, and she’s still turning the crumpled bag between her hands. Those were the dreams of a kid who just wanted to get away from a shitty world and find something peaceful where no one would yell or throw glass bottles. Joining the military was more doable. People still yelled and sometimes they’d throw glass bottles too in the military, but by then Irina had the strength to punch down the idiots who pulled that sort of shit.

Lin’s tightly gripping the wheel even though the engine’s off and cooling.

“What about you?” Irina gently nudges her shoulder. “What do you wanna be when you grow up, Lin?”

Lin considers the question for a moment. Her grip on the wheel loosens.

“… I just wanna grow up, if I’m honest,” Lin carefully says. “The mimeosome technicians were nice enough to give me an adjustment after our first year on the White Whale— just a couple inches of height. But it doesn’t really beat the real deal, you know? And I think those guys just felt sorry for me, anyway.”

“Oh.” She would’ve only been eleven years old when they evacuated Earth, Irina realizes.

“But it’s not _that_ bad. I get to work on so many cool projects and the Skells, and you guys don’t treat me like I’m just a kid.” The words are suddenly flooding out. Lin is still holding onto the wheel. “There are still people who don’t know any better, sure, like— just the other day? These three ladies wouldn’t leave me alone, cooing over me and asking if I wanted to go shopping with them for the afternoon. They meant well, I knew that! There aren’t any other kids in New LA. But maybe, if my mimeosome just looked a little older, or something…”

“Does it bug you that much?”

She shakes her head so fast that her neck cricks. “Nah. No way. I’m holding out until we can get our real bodies back, and then I can resume growing up the proper way. I won’t cheat the system with mim customizations.”

“We’ll get that Lifehold Core soon.”

“That’s what I’m banking on.” Her voice cracks, as she stares at the hands that will never change, attached to the body that would never grow up.

Irina simply nods, and there’s a comfortable silence for a bit. The paper crinkles in her hands.

“Thanks for the food—“

“Sorry for the venting—“

They both speak at the same time, and pause at the same time. Lin awkwardly chuckles. “Sorry…”

“Hey…” Irina turns her head, something sad but so _real_ in her eyes. “No matter how much of a super genius you are, you’re still a kid. You can talk to me about whatever’s on your mind, whenever you like. No judgment here.”

Lin almost wants to stick her tongue out. Almost. Instead, she softly smiles.

“You too, Irina.”

Whatever’s been hurting in her gaze is there, but it’s there, almost bared for Lin to see. Now’s not quite the right time for Irina to admit that, though, and Lin knows better than to try fishing it out. It’ll come out eventually. Then maybe Irina will stop rushing headfirst at indigens so brazenly, and she’ll stop treating the Puge tests like those things could actually kill her.

Adults could be so difficult, sometimes.

 

* * *

 

Gwin’s asleep on the couch with Tatsu snoring into his chest. Doug had already headed out, Elma explains, to meet with Lao for a late night drink, so now the barracks are quiet and the night is settling in.

“Irina,” she says, pulling two glasses from the cabinets. “Why don’t you join me for a drink, too?”

“Colonel?”

Then, to Lin: “It’s been a long day. You should head to bed and get plenty of rest for tomorrow.” There's an unsaid  _thanks_ somewhere in there, which Lin easily catches.

“Yes, ma’am.” Lin salutes her, half-joking and half-serious, and decides to leave Tatsu where he is on top of Gwin. He looks so comfortable. Like a piece of garnish.

Irina’s taking one of the barstools at the kitchen counter, watching Elma skillfully swirl red wine into the glasses, and Lin swears she looks happy when she glances back at them one more time before she leaves them. Maybe it’s because of her talk with Lin, or because Elma smiles at her when she hands her one of the glasses. It could be either or. Lin’s specialty is machinery, not people.

So she heads to her room and dreams of marching Pugiliths, and of growing up.


End file.
